


You're Welcome

by NishikinoMaki



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dancing, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Missionary Position, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slow Dancing, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24467977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NishikinoMaki/pseuds/NishikinoMaki
Summary: “Don’t be a spoilsport, Belpharoo.  It’ll be fun.”He scowls at the nickname and makes an “ugh” sort of noise.  “You humans can be so pushy.”
Relationships: Belphegor & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 188





	You're Welcome

“This is...really sweet, Belphie. Thank you.”

The two of you are in the attic of the House of Lamentation, and Belphie has led you over to a corner of the room that had been previously crowded with junk. It’s now been tidied up, with a new bookcase and a cozy chair the color of a foggy night sky, and an antique lamp giving off a pale glow of light.

“I didn’t dress it up too much because I figured you’d like to do that yourself. But now you can really feel at home up here.”

You turn back to look at the Avatar of Sloth and fix him with a smile. “You didn’t have to do this for me. I was plenty comfortable up here already.”

Belphie shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips and a hand reaching up to play with a bit of dark hair hanging in front of his face. “I thought it would make you feel more welcome, and Beel agreed with me. It wasn’t any trouble or anything. Now go get some stuff from your room to decorate. I’ll be waiting up here to help, if you need it.”

You give him a nod as your smile widens and you set off back to your room to look for things to bring upstairs, your heart feeling a little more full than it was before.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

You continue with your task, organizing your new corner of the attic room with a few personal items and mementos as Belphie lounges on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes half-closed. You’ve been chatting with him leisurely all the while, not really talking about anything in particular. You’ve been working for long enough that you’re sure your conversation is the sole thing keeping him somewhat conscious. You don’t mind, though; it was par for the course when spending time with him. You were happy that he was there with you at all, though you shouldn’t be surprised since this was his idea in the first place, after all. This really would be your own modest clubhouse of sorts, your own space, for just the three of you, of privacy and quiet whenever you needed it.

You glance over at Belphie reclined on the bed and stare for a moment, taking him in as well as your current situation as a whole. _“Look how far we’ve come,”_ you think to yourself.

“Hey Belphie, do you mind if I put some music on?”

“That’s fine. Not too loud, though.” He doesn’t look up when he answers.

You walk over to the laptop sitting on the small, round table against the wall and scroll through your music, looking for the right song to fit your mood. After finding something suitable and hitting play, you go back to your area, sorting through some books to add to the shelf Belphie had gotten for you.

You bounce on the balls of your feet as you work, tapping your heel and humming along to the music absent-mindedly. Sometimes you’ll sing a line or two quietly. The music helps you relax and focus and you feel _good_ , like things are a spot lighter and brighter: it’s a welcome feeling in a place like the Devildom where the sun never rises, and moreso after all of the drama and turmoil and especially the adjustment that had taken place over the last few weeks.

Belphie’s welcome back into the family had been...trepidatious, at best. Like no one was quite sure how they should act or what they should say when he was around. And he knew it: it would be astonishing if he didn’t as his brothers were not very adept at hiding their discomfort and anxiety whenever he entered a room, constantly speaking in hushed tones, acting as though they were walking on eggshells whenever he was within earshot.

On the other side of things, it had been difficult for you, as well. Initially, Belphie had tried to be as close to you as the rest of his brothers were, but the fact of the matter was that he still scared you. He’d tried to end you, literally choking the life out of you while he cackled at your pain, pain inflicted over a crime you didn’t commit: it wasn’t exactly a situation that was easy to come back from or forgive. Thankfully, due to his own perceptiveness or perhaps due to one or more of his brothers scolding him, he realized that his attempts at familiarity and affection made you uncomfortable and he reeled himself back in, moving more slowly, even going so far as making sure you were never forced to be alone with him in the beginning.

Little by little, your fear lessened. You stopped seeing the Belphegor with rage and insanity in his eyes, but started seeing instead a demon who was very tenderhearted and very truly sorry for everything he had done, both to you and to his brothers, someone who wanted to know you, to make up for lost time. And you started to let him, piece by piece, until you found yourself harboring as much affection for him as you did for any of the others, and, if you were being honest, maybe more than that. Something about the way he looked at you with those tired but sweet eyes, the way he always gave you his full attention when you spoke, remembered your favorite things. He had wanted so badly to atone for his sins, and eventually you did bless him with absolution, finally letting his conscience rest to some miniscule degree. Now things seemed to get more comfortable by the day between the two of you, this new bit of real estate he’d set aside for you being the latest baby step towards making things as “normal” as they could be. It was all so endearing that you couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

You’re really getting into a groove, both literally and figuratively, when your eyes happen to shift over to the bed again. Belphie is sat up on his elbow, watching you curiously through his hair. A smidgen of a half-smirk plays at his lips.

“What?” you ask, going up on your toes to place a book on the highest shelf.

He shrugs and shakes his head gently. “Having fun?”

You chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I could hear you singing. Your voice is pretty. And you look cute when you dance around like that.” His expression doesn’t change as he compliments you, though his delivery makes you feel like he means it more as an objective observation instead of a form of praise, like no one who saw you could possibly disagree with him.

Heat washes over your face as you break eye contact. “Thanks. I don’t wanna disturb you, though.”

“Oh, you’re not. I like watching you.”

“Kinda weird, but okay.”

“Ha, you should be flattered. It’s hard for most things to keep my attention. I’d usually rather sleep.” His smirk widens a bit as the words leave his mouth.

A thought crosses your mind and you pause, your heart fluttering in your chest. You put down the stack of books you’d been holding and stride over to the bed. “You don’t have to limit yourself to watching, you know. You could participate.”

The demon’s head jerks back suddenly in confusion: you love catching him off-guard like this. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

“Dance with me.” Not really a request, more a gentle command. You hold a hand out to Belphie but he only stares.

“No thank you.”

“Come on, I need a break and I wanna dance with you. Please?”

“I don’t think so,” he retorts stubbornly, laying back down on the bed and closing his eyes. He doesn’t have time to get back to his near-sleep state, though, as you grab his wrist and tug. He sits up, startled and confused, one leg hanging off the end of the bed. 

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Belpharoo. It’ll be fun.”

He scowls at the nickname and makes an “ugh” sort of noise. “You humans can be so pushy.”

You tug on his arm again, which, you’d like to point out, he hasn’t made any effort to extricate himself from your grasp. “Come onnnn. Please?” Your gaze is as sweet and pleading as you can make it.

Belphie huffs a sigh of defeat as he swings his other leg over the side of the bed and stands in front of you, staring down at you as if to say “what next?”

You pull him out into the middle of the room and let his arm drop back to his side. The music still plays in the background, and you turn it up so it can fill the room, the melody surrounding you completely. You bop your way back over to where Belphie stands stockstill, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You give his shoulders a playful shake and smile up at him. “Are you a tree? Come on, move!” You sway to the beat and wait for Belphie to do...well anything besides stand there, really. As he watches you, a slight blush creeps onto his cheeks and he turns away, trying to hide behind his usual apathetic and irritated facade. You’d spent enough time with him at this point to know when he was bluffing, though.

“Belphie…” You take his hands in your own and pull him a step closer. “Move with me.” His hands still in yours, you twist your upperbody to and fro, forcing him to follow your lead. They’re slow at first, these movements, as you get a feel for how cooperative your demonic dance partner will be. He’s one of the most stubborn beings you know, but he’s not so obstinate to refuse concessions when the mood struck him; all it takes is some proper convincing to get him where you want him to be. At least, that had been your experience so far in the short time you’d known him. No, Belphie was definitely not likely to participate in anything he didn’t feel was worth his while; therefore, you would have to make this worth his while.

You keep up your coaxing, making every attempt to loosen up the Avatar of Sloth. And slowly but surely, he starts to come out of his drowsy shell, moving with you a bit more, making you do less of the work. His annoyed grimace has been replaced by the tiniest smirk as he stares at you. And then, it breaks into a smile.

“Here, get closer to me.” He pulls you to him effortlessly and, before you know it, your back is pressed against his chest and his arms are wrapped around your waist. Adrenaline courses through your veins at being so close. Belphie had been physical with you for as long as you’d allowed him to be, insofar as constantly wanting to sit next to you or fall asleep on your shoulder. But this, this was something else entirely: something deeper, more forceful, almost sensual. It wasn’t unwelcome, though. You’d been wanting to get closer to the Avatar of Sloth for a while now but you had never been quite sure how to best get through to him, with the majority of your efforts resulting in essentially nothing, and the rest in his signature mild indifference. You were the recipient of attention on his terms, and that was that. But, for some reason, today is different.

The two of you sway together, and you settle into his chest. His chin comes down to rest on your shoulder and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye: has his face always looked this soft?

“You’re warm,” he says quietly, eyelids drooping ever so slightly.

“So are you. Are you going to fall asleep right in the middle of our dance party, though?”

He chuckles. “I could, but I won’t. You’re too weak to hold me up anyway.”

You scoff and give his forearms a squeeze. “You’re kind of a brat, you know that?”

“I think you mean ‘honest’, but okay.”

You roll your eyes and reach behind you to ruffle his hair. But when you go to drop your arm back down, Belphie takes your wrist and places your hand behind his neck, his other hand pressing his hips harder into yours. A choked breath escapes your throat, but you don’t fight it. You push yourself back into him as much as you can, rolling your hips against his, all while keeping up with the music. Belphie’s cheek is pressed against your hair and you can feel his breath on your ear, hot and ragged.

“Having fun yet?” you ask, trying to hide the tremble in your voice.

Belphie hums in response, not really answering your question. “Put on something slower. I want to lead now.”

He releases you and a rush of cold air hits your back and you shiver. You find yourself hurrying to pick a song so you can go back to the warmth of his arms and the thought alone makes you blush.

Once you’re satisfied with your choice, you pad over to him and he holds out his hand to you so he can bring you to his chest, one hand on the small of your back, the other still holding your hand. He leads you in a simple, slow waltz of sorts, though not nearly as structured as you’d expect. It’s lazy and his guidance almost makes you feel like you’re floating. Or maybe that’s the look in his eyes: they haven’t left your face since you came back to him.

He sways with you, his hold on you firm but still delicate enough that you could separate yourself from him if you wanted to. He’s surprisingly light on his feet and guides you with what seems to be minimal effort, as though he’s done it a million times before.

Seeming to read your mind, he speaks up. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve been to my fair share of social gatherings in the couple thousands of years I’ve been around, you know.”

“Still, you probably hated them all,” you tease.

“When I didn’t have a dance partner like you, then sure,” he says, spinning you under his arm before bringing you back to his chest.

“So yeah, like I said, all of them.”

His smile widens and he squints at you, light flickering across the mix of purple and pink in his irises. “Think awful highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“ _You_ seem to.”

“I guess I do.” Belphie tightens his grip on you and dips you back, his face coming so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. “And what do you think of _me_?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Your knee-jerk reaction is to avert your eyes but you can’t: Belphie’s face is simply too intense, and it’s like you’re trapped there. You swallow hard. “I…”

“Hmmm? You what? I’m _dying_ to hear this,” he urges. He’s still the only thing keeping you from falling flat on your ass onto the ground, and he seems to be reveling in it.

Words escape you. You knew what you _wanted_ to say, of course, but the words keep getting lost on their way from your brain to your mouth. So you improvise.

The gap between your lips and Belphie’s closes with a kiss. When you look into his face again, his eyes are blown wide, brows raised so high they disappear into his mop of two-toned hair. He straightens out, and you along with him, his expression unchanged. For a split second, you feel a pang of terror in your chest, fearing that you’d misjudged and made a mistake. But when you open your mouth to stammer out an apology, any words that tried to come out were quickly muffled and swallowed as he presses his lips to yours.

His hands come up to cup your face, rubbing circles on your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs while your own find purchase in the plush fabric of his hoodie as you attempt to pull him closer: all you want is to feel him against you again, and he’s all too happy to comply.

His tongue brushes against your bottom lip and you open your mouth to him, tasting him for the first time. You’re so lost in the feel of him that it startles you when your back hits something hard and flat: at some point, Belphie had backed you into the wooden wall of the attic. And as quickly as you realized this, he’s shifted his hands from your face to your thighs, lifting you up easily and pressing you flush against the wall. You wrap your legs around his waist and grab hold of his shoulders to steady yourself, though you doubt he needs any help in keeping you right where you are.

Belphie’s mouth travels from yours to your jaw to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of warm kisses along the way. He sucks the delicate skin into his mouth, hard enough to leave a mark that will be bruised and purple in the morning. You whimper when he nips at your clavicle and you feel his sly smirk against your skin.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he asks, words muffled in your skin.

You nod frantically in response. “Yes...yeah, I did.”

He purrs in your ear before placing a lingering kiss right below. “I could tell. I was wondering when you were going to make your move. You really made me wait.” His words are teasing, but you can hear the relief in them, as well, as though he wanted this just as much but was too afraid of scaring you away with his advances, especially after everything he had put you through. He had been waiting for some sign of permission, and you had given it to him at last.

You cup his face in your hand and bring his mouth back to yours, interrupting any other snarky comment he was thinking of making. He doesn’t care, though; he really is happy for the wait to be over.

“I want to take you to bed. Can I?” he asks, eyes meeting yours again. You nod in response and, next thing you know, he’s carrying you to the circular bed he’d been laying on alone shortly before. He sets you down gingerly and crawls on top of you, his lips already searching for yours again as he toys with the hem of your t-shirt, fingers dancing over the flesh underneath. It sends a shiver down your spine and you arch into him.

“Let me take this off of you. I want to see you.” His usually sweet voice is lower now, hardly an octave above a growl. His pupils are blown wide when he looks at you and you bite your lip and tell him to get rid of the cumbersome article of clothing.

He pulls the garment over your head and tosses it away before sitting back on his knees and letting his eyes roam over all of the new skin he’s exposed, drinking you in, already trying to memorize every curve, every mark.

You rest your hand on the single button holding his hoodie closed. “I want you to take this off, too.” Without a word, he undoes the button and shrugs out of his outer layer before diving back in and claiming your lips again.

Your arousal is already driving you crazy and you plead with him for more contact, pushing your hips against his, hoping he’ll take the hint. From the feel of Belphie’s erection pressed against your thigh, you suspect he must be feeling the same. He bucks his hips slightly in response and it’s enough to pull a low moan from you.

“You really do sound pretty,” he says, lowering his face to your neck again. “I can’t wait to hear more.” Your next sound is strangled as he sinks his teeth into your skin, the pain sharp but not displeasing. Belphie runs his tongue over the fresh mark and gives you a self-satisfied smile.

“Belphie…”

“What is it, my sweet?”

“I want you to taste me.”

Belphie almost moans at your request and kisses you again. “I would love to.”

That, however, doesn’t mean that he won’t be taking his time in getting to his destination. No, he wants to taste all of you first, starting with the skin that’s been freshly uncovered. He advances slowly, lazily, peppering your chest with kisses and bites. He kneads one of your breasts as he takes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the hardening nub. You arch into him again and keen, a hand in his hair, not wanting him to move on yet. Belphie has other plans, though.

He drags his lips down your abdomen until they reach the top of your shorts. “Something else is in my way now,” he says cheekily, but before you can answer, he nuzzles his face into your clothed sex and your spine arches against the mattress. You scramble to remove your shorts but Belphie stops you before you get too far.

“I can do it, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls the fabric down your legs before removing it completely. He kisses your mons and caresses a finger between your folds, pulling a fresh moan from you.

“I could smell your arousal, you know, even with all those clothes in the way. _This_ , though…” He pauses as he slips his finger inside you. “This is _much more satisfying_.”

“Belphie, please…” you choke, trying to push yourself down the bed onto him.

He smiles up at you idly, working his finger deeper inside you. “I hope you don’t get this wet for any of my brothers.”

You shake your head and touch your hand to his hair. He turns slightly and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Good. Because I want you all to myself.”

You’re about to say something in response, but Belphie quickly shuts you up when he runs his tongue over your clit. He starts slow, tasting you, letting your arousal coat his tongue before adding another finger inside you, fucking you slowly with the digits.

He watches you through his bangs, mouth working you over expertly. You look so pretty like this, gasping and rocking your hips against him, one hand on his head to keep him in place, and the other pawing at your breasts. His cock aches at the thought of being able to be inside you, to have all of you. Sometimes his hips buck against the mattress against his own will when he hears you say his name in that pleading, breathy voice. He could probably get off from this alone with how worked up he is, but he needs to focus on you first.

Belphie sucks on your clit before letting go, his mouth producing a lewd sound at the separation. He instead turns his attention to your inner thighs, biting and kissing and licking the bruises he leaves behind. He adds a third finger to his ministrations and you curse at how full you’re starting to feel.

He leaves a particularly hard bite to your thigh before moving back to your center and continuing his previous task. He loves how you try to fuck yourself on his mouth and fingers and suspects that you’re probably close to your release with how quickly you’re breathing.

“Do you want to cum? Let me hear how bad you want it.”

His teasing nearly sends you over the edge but you feel him slowing the longer it takes you to respond. “Yes, Belphie, _fuck_ , yes, I want to cum, please…”

He grins against your folds, his tongue running circles around your clit as you plead with him.

“Then cum.”

Every muscle in your body tightens as you orgasm, Belphie’s pace never slowing as you ride it out. Your walls clench around his fingers and he has to wrap his arm around your thigh to keep you from squirming away from him. He wants to taste you through all of it, every pulse, every shock, every cry of pleasure: you’re too delicious for him to waste a single moment.

Your chest heaves as your orgasm subsides and you relax into the sheets again, but you jerk suddenly when Belphie withdraws his fingers. They’re soaked with your juices and he licks them clean before running his tongue up your slit, lapping up the remnants of your orgasm.

Hands reach out to him, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and weakly attempting to tug him back up to face you. In an instant, he almost tears his shirt from his torso and his mouth is on yours again. You can taste yourself on him, his kiss is harsh and needy, and he groans as you tangle your fingers in his hair. The feeling of his bare skin against yours is enough to make you light-headed and you can’t help but run your hands over as much of him as you can.

“ _Shit_ , I want you. Right now.” His words are all but spoken into your mouth, barely willing to pull himself away from you for the even briefest moment.

“I want you, too,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss along his neck.

He groans at the new sensation, rutting himself against you like an animal. “Are you sure? I don’t-”

“Belphegor.”

Your use of his full name snaps his attention to you. He looks positively feral, eyes almost glowing, something that should scare you, but it doesn’t. Not anymore.

“Do it. Please.”

His eyes search your face for some trace of uncertainty but all he finds is warmth and, more importantly, trust. It makes his heart twist up in his chest and he can’t think of anything else to do but kiss you again, as deeply as he can, in the hope of communicating the tiniest fraction of the gratitude welling up inside him.

He forces himself to break away from you so he can shuck his pants down his legs, and the sight of his cock makes you throb all over again. He quickly positions himself above you again, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance. You whimper in anticipation, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, and you nearly break the skin when he finally rolls his hips and pushes himself into you.

“Still okay?” he asks, his hands on your hips as he pauses to check on you, to make sure that he isn’t hurting you.

You nod, touching his hands with your own reassuringly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Keep going.”

He smirks and takes your hands in his, lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of each one. You relax further into his touch, the simple romantic gesture making your heart thrum louder in your chest. So relaxed are you that you let out a shriek when Belphie pins your hands on either side of your head, his body ghosting over yours, the heat his skin emanates enough to warm you without even touching.

“Good. Because I’m going to have _all of you_ tonight, my little lamb.” He punctuates his sentence with a snap of his hips and bottoms out inside of you.

You throw your head back, your walls stretching to accommodate him: you’d never been with anyone as big as him before and the difference was immediately noticeable. He gives you a moment to adjust before pulling out slightly and rocking his hips back into you, savoring your warm, wet heat.

He starts up a rhythm: slow, methodical, purely enjoying the feel of you, of _finally_ having you like he’d wanted for so long. And he loves how your breath catches in your throat whenever he thrusts himself deeper inside, moans and whines tumbling from your swollen lips.

Your fingers are still entwined and your nails sink into the back of Belphie’s hands more and more with each motion. The pinpricks of pain only serve to heighten the demon’s pleasure, though, and he wonders if he could fuck you good enough that you’d break the skin from how hard you’re gripping onto him. The thought of you drawing blood makes his cock twitch and he can’t help but groan.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel so good,” he breathes before capturing your lips with his own again. “Have you thought about this? About us?”

It’s so difficult to speak, all your senses overloading from stimulation. Some words come out but they’re more incoherent babble than a real sentence.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that.” He thrusts into you so hard that your whole body seizes in response, your arms straining under his grasp. “Or have you forgotten how to speak because all you can think about is _how good_ I feel inside you?”

You desperately wish you could wipe that smarmy look off of his face, that absolute asshole of a tease. The worst part is that he’s not wholly incorrect either, because really, how _are_ you supposed to speak in complete sentences when you’re getting fucked by one of the most powerful demons in the three realms?

“Belphie, I…” you swallow hard and try to free yourself from his grip. All your efforts are completely in vain, though: you could never hope to beat him when it came to physical strength. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. You want nothing more than to touch him, grab onto him, bury your hands in his hair, just _hold him_ and keep him close to you. Unfortunately, he seems content to keep you right where you are.

“I’m listening, sweetness.”

“Please...let me, _fuck_ , let me touch you.” How pathetic you sound.

Belphie leans in close to your neck and rubs the tip of his nose lightly along your sweat-soaked skin, biding his time, thinking over your request all while he still fucks you at his leisure. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks, and you have to strain to hear his voice as his words are lost in the crook of your neck.

“You asked so nicely; how could I say no?” And with that, he releases you, your arms wrapping around him at once and pulling him as close to you as you possibly can. He laughs at your neediness, but it thrills him, as well, that you want him like this. He kisses you harshly and positions your legs to wrap around him, angling you just so. He ruts against you, completely sheathing his length in you and swallowing the resulting cry as he brushes against your g-spot.

Now that he’s found exactly what he wanted, he quickens his pace, making sure to hit all the right notes, again and again and again, until you’re nothing but a whimpering, whining mess beneath him. You claw at his back and arms and he hisses in your ear, nipping in both play and warning: he relished the dull pain but too much would send him over the edge and that couldn’t happen, not yet, not before you.

“How do you feel, lamb; are you going to come for me again soon?” Something in his voice both soothes and arouses you even more and you’re not exactly sure how that’s possible. But regardless, you answer him with another kiss, your hand keeping his face close to yours.

“Mhmm, I want to, Belphie, I, _ahhh_ , I want to come so bad, please...touch me…”

Without a word, one of the demon’s hands snakes its way between your bodies and starts rubbing quick circles over your clit. The new sensation causes you to throw your head back into the pillows, exposing all of your neck, and Belphie obviously can’t resist such an invitation. He sinks his teeth into your flesh once more, ripping a cry from deep inside you and your walls clench around him as you tumble off the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you and Belphie fucks you through the whole thing until you’re twitching and gasping his name over and over. It’s all so much, so delicious, so filthy, and it brings him to the brink of release.

“That, _shit _, that pretty voice of yours...is going to make me _haaaa_ -” He’s interrupted by your lips claiming his once again. You nibble on his bottom lip before moving down to his neck, covering it with kisses and sucking the skin into your mouth: you can’t wait for his brothers to see how a mere human has left these kinds of marks on him.__

____

____

All the attention you’re showing to him is more than he can handle and the Avatar of Sloth reaches his end, spilling himself inside you with labored breaths and groans of ecstasy. He collapses on you when he’s spent and you immediately wrap your arms around him, brushing his hair off his forehead, slick with sweat, so you can see those eyes that entrance you so. The ferocity in them you’d witnessed moments before is ebbing away, returning to the usual mix of sleepy, stormy purple and pink. He meets your gaze and buries his face in your skin as a new blush washes over his cheeks. He pulls himself out of you gingerly, the both of you overly-sensitive at the moment, and moves to lay beside you. He cups your cheek in his hand and kisses you again, softly, sweetly, happily.

“That was way more positive of a response than I was expecting.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask curiously.

The corner of his lips twist up in a smirk. “When I asked what you thought of me: I didn’t think you’d immediately hop into bed with me.”

You shove his shoulder and laugh, and he pulls you against him in a hug, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. You snuggle into him comfortably, taking his face in your hands and simply...watching him, taking in how his lips seem to be permanently upturned in the most content of smiles as he runs his fingers lightly up and down your back.

“I’m glad you were satisfied with my answer.”

He sighs contentedly, his eyelids closing, his ever-present battle with sleep turning into a loss. “I’m tired now, though. Stay with me while I nap, okay? I might need you to remind me of your answer when I wake up.”

“Of course, Belpharoo.”

But the Avatar of Sloth is already fast asleep. You press one last kiss to his head before joining him, his steady breathing lulling you into the most restful sleep you’ve ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantine has brought me back to the world of fic-writing, but for a different fandom this time.
> 
> I originally wanted to make this way more angsty BUT I'll save that for next time since I really wanna get in there and just destroy everyone's feelings. Look out for that if you love emotional pain.
> 
> Shoutout to the Discord gang for indulging my efforts and helping me with Belphie's preferred pet names for MC. Y'all the real ones.
> 
> I have a whole playlist for Belphie that I'd be happy to share, if anyone was interested. I'll highlight a couple songs that I listened to on repeat a lot while I was writing this, though.
> 
> Blinding Lights by The Weeknd (https://youtu.be/fHI8X4OXluQ)
> 
> Sleeping Lotus by Joep Beving (https://youtu.be/g2X_pyDCTzQ)
> 
> As always, don't own, didn't happen. I'm not making any money off of this.


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